


Sweet Dreams & Nightmares

by trufield



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufield/pseuds/trufield
Summary: What are dreams? What is the difference between dreaming and reality? Is there one?Does it even matter?Written forsmallfandomfest





	Sweet Dreams & Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebigbengal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigbengal/gifts).



> (I hope this is okay??)

Cooper had long grown out of fearing nightmares. It was only a form of dreaming after all. Unconscious messages for him to process and deconstruct. If their focus was sometimes disturbing it was only to subject him to it until he could make peace with it. 

That didn't make him feel any better when he woke. Sometimes he wondered if he was strong enough to achieve resolution. 

Blood blossoming on Caroline's dress. Caroline crying bloody tears for him. For herself. A scream he could not track or follow but he knew was her. Knew he was too late. He was always too late. He could never save her. She could not be saved. 

Cooper refused to believe that - in any state of consciousness. There was always hope, everyone had a chance to be saved. He continued to try. He continued to fail. 

Now he could focus his attention on Laura. He could take what he had learnt. Perhaps it was too late for her in life but he had no control over that. It didn't mean there was no hope. He could still bring her the peace she deserved. 

\-----

Laura sometimes couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. Her dreams felt so real and what she presumed were her waking moments could be disturbing. Sometimes she would choose to believe them to be nightmares, it was easier that way. 

She struggled to remember when she had been a ‘regular’ girl - happy and innocent, no worries or cares. She could pretend at times, the times she was with Donna. Naive Donna who thought she knew everything but didn't know at all. That was nice. Laura could pretend they were the same, that things had always been that way, that her only problems were school and boys. It was a waking dream, a pleasant escape. 

\-----

Birds. Just as his mother used to describe. They never boded well. Squawking and screeching, the fractal noise of feathers - a cacophony of sound so he couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. Their bodies blocking out the sky so he could not see. Alone in a whirlwind of confusion, feeling delicate feather-tips brush past and the dull thud of small, living bodies hitting him, contrasted by sharp beaks and talons scraping by.

Being stuck in such a place could drive a person insane.

Or give them an aneurysm.

\-----

The coke helped turn the nightmare parts of her life to dreams. Helped her stay strong, to have fun instead of fear. White powder, the colour of purity, that she came to rely on. Gliding through on a high that made guilt vanish and worries slide away. She didn't feel like she was being bad when she felt so good. 

She could live in the moment, escape into a dream where nothing mattered and she felt fine. Better than fine. She was Laura Palmer, more than just a girl. A woman who saw and understood more than anyone realised or could ever know. A woman with her own agency, free to make her own choices and do as she pleased. 

It was only ever a dream. 

\-----

Cooper had dreams. Selfish dreams for himself he didn't often think of, just ideas that were pleasant to entertain at times. Living in such a picturesque place as Twin Peaks, having a home with someone he loved. 

Impossible dreams perhaps. 

\-----

The nicest dreams she had were when she was awake. And high. The only things that ever awaited her in her sleep were terrible and terrifying. 

Awaiting her nighttime visitor, even if he had already been and gone, out through the window, he was still there in her sleep. Not always, sometimes it was only a recreation of the dreaded expectation. ‘Only’. 

Or it was a cat in the road, a horse on the track. Both lying prone. Bloodied or skin and bone. Every time she saw them they had decomposed further. She hoped eventually she would only be subjected to their bones and not the buzzing of flies. 

Donna talked about her dreams sometimes. She couldn't find her way to math class or the whole population of the town seeming to be in their school year or a bird speaking to her. Is that what normal people dreamt about? Laura never had such dreams. She wondered if she ever did. 

\-----

They both dreamt of a room. Crimson curtains and zig-zag floor. An inescapable maze of more curtains and continuous herringbone. Had this part been visited before? It was impossible to tell, all logical questions slipped from the mind. 

The silence. A space devoid of nature. No life other than those that resided there and those that were brought. Taken. Unwitting guests. 

A small man they did not know, speaking in a way that did and did not make sense all at once. Sensible nonsense or perhaps wisdom disguised. Clues to somewhere. Destination: Unknown. 

They knew each other and yet were strangers. He was seeking justice for her. Did she know? He had not met her before, not while she had the light of life in her. A corpse was never the person, only their empty vessel for him to try and piece together who they had been, how they had ended up leaving the rest of the world behind. 

He hadn't met her and yet somehow he felt that he had. A feeling of kinship that was from more than excavating details of how she'd lived. It was as if they _had_ met. In another time or place perhaps. She seemed to know him. 

But then, it was a dream. Perhaps involving other forces - _real_ forces - he did not understand but it was still just a journey of his unconscious mind. His body was grounded in Twin Peaks. 

Wasn't it?

\-----

Laura wasn't sure if this was a nightmare or if it would develop into one. She was never sure, here, in this place. Strange men never boded well. She had enough of men in her life, invading her dreams, her body. He was different. Patient, silent and calm. If he could be like that in a place like this perhaps there was hope. 

She kissed him because he hadn't presumed to take it from her. She told him what she had told no one else. A whisper in his ear just for him. He did not judge her for it, he seemed to understand.

Wasn't that the sweetest dream of all?


End file.
